


Equivalent

by zhennie



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 06:26:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhennie/pseuds/zhennie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She only lets her guard down with him, because he knows her better than she knows herself sometimes. Because he's loved her from the very first time he saw her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Equivalent

Sometimes, if she gets him drunk enough, Clint talks. 

It's mostly just nonsense, crowded strings of words spilling over each other, things he would never say if he had been in control of himself, and Natasha would have long ago shut him up when he got that way if he didn't say something different every once in a while. Sometimes, it's something interesting, like one of the few nice stories from his childhood in the circus, or an embarassing one she can hold over his head later. Other times, he'll imitate others they know. 

Clint does a great Nick Fury impression, actually. Natasha had burst out into rare laughter when he had pulled that one out, first out of sheer surprise, and then actual amusement when the shock had worn off. Clint had looked extremely pleased for a drunk person that time, and Natasha couldn't help herself when she ran her hand through his hair. She had pulled away after that, with a remark that he should probably go to bed, and if Clint hadn't said anything about her cheeks flushing, then she wouldn't say anything about how he had suddently gone quiet. 

"I love you," he says one night after consuming two bottles of vodka--the good stuff, from Natasha's personal stash, "Goddamn, Nat, I love you. I think I always have, from the first time I saw you." They're on the roof of the tower, and below them, Steve is dragging Tony upstairs from his lab as the latter protests vehemently. Bruce is quietly watching TV, and Thor is popping popcorn. Below them, New York hums, even in the middle of the night, the sound of cars whooshing past in Natasha's ear. 

She doesn't say anything to that. Clint is rather sentimental when he's drunk, although this is the first time he's ever been sentimental towards her. He knows her feelings about love, at any rate. Natasha opens her mouth to tell him that he's drunk, but what comes out instead is, "The very first time?" She sounds amused, despite herself, and instantly begins composing herself once more as Clint leans back, rolls his eyes at her, and grins.

"The very first time," he says, "You were at that ballet with a mark, and I was watching you, and you knew it." Natasha remembers that, another greedy old man who leered at her and pawed at her one time too many, Clint's eyes staring at her, somewhere behind, the music of _Swan Lake_ , familiar and gorgeous and haunting. 

"You wore your hair long," Clint continues, "I thought you must have been a phoenix or something." His grin softens, and he reaches out, letting Natasha's hair run through his fingers before his fingers ghost across the curve of her face. 

"I killed my mark at intermission," Natasha says, a blunt interjection, "and you didn't notice." 

"Nah," Clint says, a chuckle making the corners of his eyes crinkle, "I noticed. I just wanted to see the end. I knew I wouldn't catch you that time, anyways." Natasha hates _Swan Lake_. The tragic story, the double suicide for love. She loves the the graceful dancing, she loves the music, but she can't understand the reasoning behind the plot. Love is for children and fairytales, and even then, it ends up poorly. 

_Everyone dies_ , Natasha wants to say, but she doesn't. Clint plays with an empty vodka bottle.

"Why did you cut your hair?" he asks, "I liked it long." 

"I'm not going to let my hair grow just because you like it long," Natasha says instantly, but then she pauses. "It was burned off," she admits, "during a mission. While you were in New Mexico, the mission after I had to babysit Tony Stark," she says, not sure why she's explaning herself. "I liked it long too," she says finally. 

"Grow it back out," Clint suggests obviously, and Natasha rolls her eyes at him. 

"I am not going to grow out my hair just because you like it long," she repeats, but Clint smiles anyways, because he knows she will now. Clint's always known Natasha better than she's known herself. They've worked together for years now. He is the only thing she's ever had, really, the first and only thing she could call her own, and he isn't even hers. Not in that way, anyways. Although apparently while she wasn't looking, he had become hers anyways, unwanted but not unwelcome. She'd never admit it, though, and Clint must have understood that as well. 

"I love you," he says again, seriously. He scoots over, leans in close, until his forehead is touching hers and she can feel his breath, warm. His hand cups her face, gently, and Natasha closes her eyes, lets her face soften just for a moment. It's all the reply Clint is going to get right now, because for Natasha, letting him see her like this is the same as an _I love you too._


End file.
